Dark Room
by Black Wings-White Wings
Summary: The members of the Room had found what they'd been searching for - the last piece of evidence they needed, the final missing piece in the tale of the Sakuraba family. But would it also be the final nail in their own coffin? -Irregular updates; An Otherborn fic; AU; Spoilers for Otherborn website; TWEWY, DRRR!, Dennou Coil, Kingdom Hearts, More-


_**A/N: **__Hullo there! Miri here again. More AU spoilery goodness... I'm enjoying the images this fic gives me. Don't expect it to update on a regular basis, though I hope a second chapter will be posted soon. Enjoy!_

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The room was quiet; all eyes shifted back and forth, unable to find decent purchase anywhere. They all were avoiding the subject at hand. They all knew it needed to be discussed, and none of them was willing to take that one step forward and discuss it. No one wanted to be the first to broach the subject of the Sakuraba family.

On the surface, it was the perfect family. That was one of the problems facing the people sitting in this room. It was completely, utterly, mind-bogglingly average, so average it almost seemed a cover story for some Russian spy. The room had been worried about that, when the charismatic, but otherwise unremarkable, Alan Freeman had married the foreign, but otherwise unremarkable, Chihiro Sakuraba, and in turn took _her_ last name. That he was a foreign spy. That had been near the end of the Cold War, the mid- to late-eighties period. Back then, this nondescript room of equally unremarkable people had been assigned to track that sort of thing.

They were now worried about much, much bigger problems than Russian spies.

It had been easy to crack Alan's life open, easy to find out everything there was to know about him – almost too easy.

Except for one, little snag.

Alan Freeman's life was perfect, except one tiny, flawed detail – Alan Freeman had never been born, never visited a doctor or lived in a town or attended school or been homeschooled, at least not before the age he turned fourteen. The birth certificate and social security number that he used to get his first job were faked. Evidence of his being a spy, to be sure, but his documents weren't quite good enough to be the handiwork of foreign intelligence. Good, yes; not _that_ good. Alan Freeman was a puzzle, an enigma, and Chihiro Sakuraba was exactly the opposite.

Her records had been hellish to find, incredibly difficult to trace, the worst nightmare and greatest dream of any member of their department… until they were opened, and all of her paperwork from her entire life was in order.

The inhabitants of the room had boggled over it, the union of two such intriguing people, remarkable only for their sheer normalcy – and the mystery of their backgrounds and origins.

That was when they'd decided to go above and beyond the call of duty, and dig deeper into the mystery of the Sakuraba family.

Their searches, their efforts, turned up nothing. The small task force turned the majority of their attentions to other, more fruitful labors; and, when the War ended, they were put into sleep.

But they continued, in the background, monitoring communications, the steady thrum of the government machine, for anything involving the Sakuraba family.

A blip on the radar had appeared with the birth of their son, Neku. He'd been delivered by a Doctor Kishitani, noted for his involvement with such 'unremarkable' families. A halfhearted investigation into Mafia connections had ensued, but turned up no leads.

The room had begun to give up on the Sakurabas.

Until that day.

Until the day that the monster had appeared in the city streets, briefly, and been struck down by none other than Alan Sakuraba.

Of course, the reports of the incident were swiftly buried, but they were able to get hold of the few remaining traces of truth. The people in the room had incredible access to that sort of info, contacts who knew everything spread out between them. The rumor mill churned; the room unburied facts.

It had taken six years since the birth of young Neku for them to find the smoking gun, but they soon learned that it was merely the tip of the iceberg. They unpacked their old files, only to find the records they'd kept of Alan Freeman's birth certificate had been destroyed, other documents missing or altered. The room itself had been compromised. It took another six years to recover their losses and begin to make headway again, as leads went cold and they struggled to keep up with the case. By that point, the Sakurabas had had another child, Chika, a little girl who would prove much, much less interesting than her older brother.

Neku Sakuraba provided the lead they'd needed to accelerate their investigation as they delved deeper and deeper into the truth about the monster that had appeared and the family they'd been studying. Or, rather, his best friend – a young man who appeared one day out of nowhere when Neku was twelve, just as his father had appeared to do so many years before.

Interestingly, the young man also provided a forged birth certificate to the school he and Neku attended, as well as for his official adoption by a waitress by the name of Tifa Strife (last name changed three years ago from Lockhart, to match that of her then-crush, now-long-term-boyfriend Cloud Strife); however, two years later, his name changed mysteriously from "Axel" to "Lea", and while his adoption by Tifa was still, somehow, legal (the gymnastics involved in that gave the room headaches simply to think about), his birth certificate had been replaced by a real one, containing the name "Lea Byrne" – a boy who'd vanished without a trace at the age of three, following a home invasion. Investigation into the case revealed that the boy's mother had initially insisted that the boy's father was to blame, but when questioned about the father's identity and possible whereabouts, she quickly changed her story, saying that she had no idea who the man had been, or who had stolen her son.

Investigation into the event had led them deeper than they should ever have gone into an underworld that they knew absolutely nothing about.

They knew far more than 'nothing' now, and in the intervening five years since their breakthrough with Lea Strife, they'd gathered more and more intelligence, enough to know that there was no one they could count on, except each other. The world at large would believe they were crazy; their command structure had been infiltrated by enemies on both sides of the war they'd uncovered, going on beneath their very noses.

With the last few pieces of evidence arrayed on the room's dark tables, the soft glow of near-inadequate lighting focusing on the photographs and documents that filled the last gaps in their jigsaw puzzle, they had the distinct feeling that they'd put the final nail in their own coffins.

Metaphorically, of course. Their death warrants would only be signed if they ended up _telling_ anyone about their discoveries.

Feather, one of the room's two female occupants, cleared her throat. She was an attractive woman, kept younger than her unknown real age by the wonders of modern science. She was independently wealthy, though where that wealth came from, the room had no idea. She was one of the few who had not shared her name with the rest of them – some believed that she _had_ no name. Feather was an alias, of course, just like every other name she'd ever used over the course of her job. Its origins, like hers, were shrouded in mystery.

"No use avoiding it," she said simply. "The game is up. We've uncovered the last secret of the bloody Sakuraba family, and we've all decided that we wish we hadn't. I remember saying something about that before, but we were all too excited to listen to sense. And now… now we have this."

She picked up one of the photographs and tossed it over to the other end of the table.

Commander picked it up, inspecting it.

Commander was simply that – the leader of those people assembled here in the room. He'd been with the project since its creation; in his mid-fifties, he felt he was far, far too old for all of this. He was a practical man, not inclined to believe in monsters or demons, but the evidence they'd uncovered was far more convincing, far more telling, far more _real_ than any blurry Bigfoot photo.

The picture he held in his hands was an example of that. It was crystal clear, taken with the perfect digital clarity of the modern era, and the figure it showed was centered in the frame.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Who took this photo? Does anyone know? How is it we've never seen this before?"

"It was delivered directly by one of my sources," said the third member of the room. Glass, as he liked to be called, was an artist. One of the newer members of the group and age twenty-three, he specialized in _all _of the fine arts – sculpture, calligraphy, music, painting, even conversation – but more importantly, he also specialized in the art of _stealing_ them. All of them. Forgery, heists, and information gathering – those were the reasons he'd been entered into the room. Imitation, as well, was a talent, one he called 'the art of stealing people.'

He smiled. "Kid supposedly picked a fight with a group of thugs who were menacing the girl. Of course, there've been rumors for quite a long time that he's not normal, but we just assumed that he was one of the normal freaks, or a little bit Other, like his friend. This is the first photo evidence that there's more to the rumor than meets the eye…"

"Is it Photoshopped?" Commander asked, turning towards Gremlin and setting the picture back on the table. The other female inhabitant of the room shrugged.

"Not as far as I've been able to determine," she replied, sighing. She was the youngest person there, aged sixteen, and an accomplished student of all things computer. As one of three people in the world able to access the room's vast amounts of information without authorization, she'd immediately been drafted into service once her identity had been discovered. "The quality is just too good, the lighting matches too perfectly to be spliced... I think this is real, boss." She sighed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful, perfect shot; the subject was caught in a state of rage, almost serene in his anger. Objects floated around him, and his green eyes seemed to almost glow with an otherworldly light. This was Neku Sakuraba, the oldest child of the Sakuraba family, but in the photograph that lay in front of them, he was clearly not human. Two massive black wings blocked the camera from a clear view of the background, and a pair of ivory horns framed his face. The outstretched hand captured in the photo was tipped with delicate claws.

"Arguing about whether or not it's real won't do us any good," Feather said. "We all know what our guts are telling us. The implications of this photo, and the rest of the documentation we've got, are quite clear. None of the Sakurabas are human, and we're the only ones, aside from possibly a very few people, who know it." She sighed, inspecting one manicured hand. "The question becomes, what do we do now that we _do_ know?"

"We certainly can't tell the higher-ups," Glass said. "After all, they've been hiding the Sakurabas for years. And we don't know which superiors are on which side, anyway. Freaks or demon dealers, take your pick."

"Not to mention that if we tell the _Otherborn_," Gremlin said, with a glare directed at Glass, "the Sakurabas will end up dead."

"We don't know that," Glass replied. "Could just be this kid. If we're right, and the parents are each only half, they've proven that they accept 'em into their midst. Might be for the better anyway. You know what our intel says about demon attacks."

"I just don't get it," she complained, sighing. "If he's been a demon all along, how come nobody's _ever_ noticed before now?"

"It only takes being careless once for a cover to be blown," Feather replied. "The kid's probably been hiding who he is his whole life. He does seem to have disguise as one of his powers, at least, which is one thing going for him. Explains why this is the first photo we've seen of his true form."

"Poor Neku," Gremlin said, looking at the photo. "Can you imagine that? Never being able to be who you are because you're afraid if people knew, they'd kill you for it? It must be terrible."

Glass sighed and rolled his eyes. "Kid's not even _human_, Gremlin, you can probably save your sympathy."

She gave him another glare. "Anyone ever tell you you're an _ass_, Glass? He's not just some _thing_, he's a person. Even if he's not human, doesn't he deserve a chance?" She shrugged. "Besides. One of my friends was in his science class, and she called him the nicest guy she'd ever met. So there."

"Stop bickering, kids," Commander said quietly. "The truth of the matter is, our position is serious and precarious. One wrong move and we're all in trouble, so we need to move carefully – and that means, we need to be discussing our next move maturely." He sighed. "Speaking of moving carefully, does _anyone_ know where Fox is?"

Feather shrugged. "He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Wherever he is, it'd better be important."

"At least Script told us he wasn't gonna be here," Gremlin said. "Fox's habit of not showing up's beginning to get a little annoying."

Glass rolled his eyes again. "If we're looking for candidates for people who aren't human…"

"Oh, please. You shouldn't be so harsh on people, Glass… you'll never get any _real_ friends if you keep acting that way."

The smiling figure that stood in the door was tall for his apparent age, though his actual age was even more of a mystery than Feather's. He claimed to be somewhere in his twenties, but Commander had his doubts.

Fox had one of those faces – it could look any race, color, creed, or age he wished it to, with a little help from disguise and posture, and seeing him in action was like watching a piece of art.

This stepped a little into Glass' territory, and Glass resented Fox for it; however, instead of taking his animosity out on the other man, Glass instead opted to best him in other ways. Verbal battles between the two were a commonplace occurrence in the room, and Glass considered his greatest, ongoing heist his attempt to 'steal' Fox completely – to imitate him in every way. To become Fox was Glass' greatest aspiration.

Today, Fox wore what he usually did – a black coat with fur-trimmed hood, sleeves, and lining over a black shirt and dark jeans. Combined with his usual arrogant, somewhat-refined posture and natural features, un-enhanced by makeup or other disguise tools, this placed his appearance in the same age range he claimed to belong to, vaguely Asian, and a bit of a rebel – all things he claimed to naturally be. His (debatably) natural hair color was black, and he kept it medium-length; his eyes were brown, though in certain lighting, they had a tendency to flash somewhat red.

"I apologize for my tardiness," he said, flicking dust from his coat. "I got caught up in business and almost had to send Vixen to replace me."

Vixen was Fox's twin 'sister', and notoriously hard to get a hold of. Usually, she could only be contacted via Fox, and attended meetings in the room in her brother's place.

Commander had his doubts as to Vixen's actual identity, but kept those to himself.

Glass, who notably preferred Vixen, sighed. "Darn shame, that would've been," he said.

Fox, ignoring him, walked up to the table and picked up the photograph. "Well, well, well, what _have_ we here? Young Sakuraba managed to get himself on film, I see… Shame. I was hoping we'd be wrong about him. This does create a lot more work for us, though…" Despite his words, Fox seemed more delighted than worried, as if relishing the thought of such a tricky challenge.

"That implies we actually know what we're supposed to _do_ with this info," Feather pointed out.

"Do we really have to do anything?" Gremlin asked. "I mean, yeah, he's not human, but I'm sure there's plenty of other people who aren't. There's no evidence he's a threat, so, why can't we leave it alone?"

"Something's telling me that's not the right thing to do," Commander said. "This information is important, somehow. My gut's never been wrong before now – I'm not going to start ignoring it."

"Good idea," Fox said, seating himself on the table and crossing his arms. "The best thing to do is to gather more information, I think. If indeed this photograph found its way to us for a reason, and these documents, then we'll need to research what that reason is before choosing a course of action. Don't you agree?" He turned to look over his shoulder at Commander, raising one elegant eyebrow.

"Fox is right," Commander said, nodding. "There's something that's not right about this, and we need to find out what that is."

"Wait!" Gremlin said. "Wait. There's one thing that's bugging me, and I just figured out what that is!"

"Oh?" Feather asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "See, Glass said one of his sources gave the photo to him directly. But if that's the case, how'd he know Glass was interested? And how'd the _source_ get the photo? Especially since it hasn't popped up online, or else the world would already know about it."

"She has a point," Fox said.

"She does," Glass replied, crossing his own arms. "My source knew I was interested because I'd asked a lot about the Sakurabas before. After all, I have been researching 'em for quite a while now. But you're right… I never asked where he got a hold of the photo. I figured it was through the usual venues, but none of those would have generated the kind of silence surrounding that photo. They'd either have dismissed it as junk and sold it to a tabloid, and we'd know because we _read_ those tabloids or, because some higher power stopped it from printing, or they threw it away, it would never have reached our desk. If they believed it, the hellstorm would have started the moment _they _did something about it, or they would be sitting somewhere debating what to do with it, and it would never have reached our desk. My source would never've gotten his hands on it, whatever which way you look at it." He frowned. "Almost like someone or something was steering it into our hands."

"Which means that someone knows about us," Feather replied. "We've been compromised."

"Cerainly a possibility," said Fox casually. Again, he didn't really seem worried. But, then, Fox was always like that – as if the whole room and his own job were simply a game to him, a way to pass the time. He approached everything with vague and unhurried curiosity, never bothering to worry about anything's real affect on anything but him personally. It was what really set him apart from Glass – Glass didn't really worry much about the security of the government, except as a function of his work, but he was always passionately determined about the aspect of secrecy and espionage. Perhaps his work was a game, but it was a very serious game, the outcomes of which were life and death, and Glass treated it that way.

Fox treated nothing that way, at least on the surface; nothing seemed to matter much to him at all, besides his own self, and he treated nothing as sacred or serious. He was only in his line of work for the fun of it, he'd admitted to the various members of the room at least once each, and the sense of personal challenge it gave him. The sentiment was another point of conflict between Glass and him.

"Then again, it could all be a huge coincidence. Or the people who had it decided the best thing to do with it would be to get it to an interested party like Glass, without caring too much about why the party was interested." He chuckled. "But the reason we're here is that we don't believe in coincidences, isn't it?" He inspected his nails, smirking vaguely. "It's time we paid a little more attention to Urbadelphia, I think," he said quietly. "My civilian offices are located there; I'm sure that between us, Glass and I can hook the rest of you up with some form of lodgings there." He turned to Commander.

"Request permission to set up a Room in Urbadelphia and move our base of operations into that fine city."

Commander sighed. Moving the base was a serious matter; it meant that the Room had returned to active duty, and they were following that duty where it led. It meant negotiations with brass, maneuverings around the tricky subject of _what_ their leads were, arrangements with the people they worked for. It meant their _real_ work would soon begin.

He rubbed his forehead.

"Alright," he said, after a long, tense moment. "Permission granted. All of you who can make it to Urbadelphia, prepare to do so. You have one week before we reconvene. Dismissed."

As always, each left in his or her own unique way. Feather elegantly uncoiled from her seat and exited through the main door; Glass took the back way out, preferring it to seem as if he'd never entered the building that housed the room. The sophisticated holographic projection that represented Gremlin turned off, winking out like she had never existed – a rather eerie visual, but one he had become used to since adding the teen to his team.

Only Fox lingered with him, taking the Sakuraba kid's photo into his hand and examining it, the familiar, vague smirk decorating his face as he did so. Commander watched him out of the corner of his eye while he gathered the rest of the documents for filing. Fox often gave him the impression that he knew more than he was letting on, and that impression was correct more often than not in his experience. Right now, those feelings were coming across loud and clear, and so he waited for Fox's next move.

Sure enough, Fox began to speak to him, hopping off the table and turning to face him completely. "Commander, I was wondering," he began, glancing again at the photo in his hands. "What do _you_ think of this whole Sakuraba business? I couldn't help but notice you were quiet earlier…"

"Fishing for information, Fox?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The younger man chuckled.

"I suppose I am," he said, "but that is my job, after all, isn't it? So, tell me… if Sakuraba really is a demon… what is your opinion on that?"

He sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I don't know, Fox. If we hadn't seen proof ourselves of the secret war going on in Urbadelphia, I would say I'm too old to believe in monsters and ghost stories. But… dammit if it isn't true, and we don't know that it is." He sighed, pulling one hand absently through his hair. "The kid's never hurt anybody, and he's been real careful to hide who he is from everyone, even those 'Otherborn' or his own kind. I don't think he's a threat – but even so, he could still be dangerous. I'll withhold my judgment until I see for myself the situation in Urbadelphia right now. I don't think we have the right to cause his death on the whim of a 'maybe.'"

Fox smirked, without any hint of vagueness this time. His smile, his eyes, were both crisp and sharp, suddenly overflowing with intelligence and hidden knowledge.

"And you believe handing him over to the Otherborn would be such a death sentence?" Fox asked him.

He sighed. "I don't know. That's the problem. We think we know so goddamn much about these people, but there's still so much that we _don't_ know. It keeps us from making any kind of rational decision. That's why I gave the go-ahead for you to reactivate – we _need _that info."

"Knowing is, as they say, half the battle," Fox agreed with a grandiose sweep of the arms. "Glass appears to think that all demons are the evil monsters we've seen battling it out with the Otherborn in the leaked tapes," he continued, "but you seem to have a more moderate view on these… 'otherworldly' dealings, Commander."

He shot Fox a sharp look, but he couldn't see any reason not to answer the question. "I dunno about 'demons'," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "What we've seen are complete and total monsters, unable to do anything but rampage or destroy. But, we know that people like the Strife kid exist – people who have mixed ancestry, that look nearly human. Maybe all human. Those monsters we've seen… they don't seem capable of that."

"Oh?" Fox asked.

"Yeah. And then… there's the Sakuraba kid. Most of the time, he looks human. But that photo shows he's not – that he's something else, something _Other_. And he still seems… more human, like that, than any of those other monsters. If there's more like him, hiding on the fringes of society, well… they can't all be evil mass-murderers or we'd know about them by now."

Fox laughed. "Glass would likely say that they've all become cutthroat shark lawyers and politicians."

"He might have a point," he conceded, shrugging, "but I can't bring myself to believe that evil is genetic, that there could be an entire race that's purely evil. At least in reality."

"You're not a man of faith, Commander?"

"You seem awfully interested in my beliefs on the matter, Fox."

The statement closed the line of questioning, and Fox knew it. He let out a soft chuckle.

"I suppose I am, Commander… but I will quell my curiosity. Urbadelphia isn't a long trip home, but if I'm to help arrange a Room's creation, then I'll need my rest when I get there. Have a pleasant evening, Commander… I'm looking forward to showing you my city."

He tuned, gave a nonchalant wave over his shoulder, then left, striding out like he'd strode in – as though the entire building belonged to him.

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_**A/N: **__So far, only a few familiar faces - but can you recognize them? Other than Neku, of course. Let me know! :3_


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